


Actions Speak Louder than Words

by smallameangel



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Frisk, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Sans Remembers Resets, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-04 15:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallameangel/pseuds/smallameangel
Summary: It's Gyftmas, and as usual Frisk is spending it with their monster family and friends... except that this year, they have a special something planned for their favorite punny skeleton.





	Actions Speak Louder than Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tyrant_Tortoise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyrant_Tortoise/gifts).



> My gift for the lovely Tyrant_Tortoise as a part of the Undertale Secret Santa of 2017! :D
> 
> I hope you like it!

Blue. That was the color of the small hat box they had silently placed in his boney hands just a moment ago before skipping off. Every year for Gyftmas he received a blue box of varying size. He couldn’t blame them for thinking that blue was his favorite color. After all, even after moving up to the surface, Sans rarely wore any colors but black, white, and blue. Blue sweaters, tacky blue socks, sometimes blue shirts with constellations or puns, and his trusty dusty-blue jacket. During their first year out of the mountain, Papyrus had insisted that he wear a pink teeshirt for Valentine’s day in order to « BETTER BLEND IN WITH THE HUMANS, » he was told. Instead, Sans had found himself to be the center of attention everywhere he went, with Frisk going so far as to ask him, albeit shyly, what his favorite color actually was. He had never thought of that before, and had found himself absent-mindedly scratching the back of his skull in thought. Finally, after a minute of forcibly looking away from Frisk’s intense stare, he had shrugged in his usual nonchalant way and and mumbled the first color that came to mind. Blue.

Orange. That was actually his favorite color, though he hadn’t realized it all those years ago. He watched intently from his place against Toriel’s floral-patterned wallpaper as Papyrus opened his red Gyftmas box. The sparkles in his brother’s eyes as he pulled out a limited edition sentai action figure and squealed in surprise were infectious. His bro had been ranting and raving about that new action hero show for months, so it came as no surprise that Frisk would plan to spoil him with such a rare gift. Being the human ambassador to monsters had certain perks, even if it was grueling work. Sans lazily followed Frisk’s movements about the cozy room as they gradually handed out all of their presents, their orange eyes calmly looking back at him every once in a while.

Sans hadn’t been able to figure out the full extent of Frisk’s magical abilities, but he knew for sure that they had some amount of control over time. The way their sunset orange eyes had flashed red with determination as they had insisted that he was _the_ legendary fartmaster all those years ago had really cinched it for him. And yet… ever since that fateful day, there had been no sign that Frisk had tried to do things over again or that they had tampered with time in any way. If necessity was the mother of invention, perhaps desperation could be the father of ingenuity? After all, despite Sans’ mountains of research on timelines and parallel worlds, Frisk had been confronted with an insurmountable obstacle: Asgore. Now, the docile king simply sat in his overstuffed green armchair by the fireplace, a content look on his face as he opened his rather large Gyftmas box from Frisk. Before they had been set free, however, the monster king was filled with sadness and regret, forcing any human who had traveled through the Underground to battle with him to the death. Somehow, some way, Frisk had managed to break that cycle; through sheer determination, and most-likely through a bit of time travel as well.

Frisk turned back to face him from across the room, their usual serenity and poise overshadowed by a palpable excitement. He was the last one in the room with a present yet to open. They nodded quietly, a small smile gracing their lips before turning their attention to other monsters. The stocky bone-man sighed in relief as their gaze settled elsewhere. Words had always been carefully chosen and replies cautiously crafted. He held things back, shuttered his true thoughts and feelings, rarely letting them see the light of day. They, on the other hand, were always straightforward and honest to a fault, choosing to rarely speak in order to give further weight to their words. After all, their actions had been the cornerstone of humans’ and monsters’ future, and actions always speak louder than words.

He had put it off for far too long. If he didn’t open his gift now, he was sure to get a ribbing from everyone present. Sans stared intently at the light blue ribbon elegantly tied across the top of the deep blue lid and flicked it gently, reveling in the soft, sheer fabric. It was strange to feel so nervous when opening a gift. He had opened dozens, if not hundreds, of gifts from a variety of people in his relatively short lifetime. At this time of year, Frisk gave gifts to everyone without reservation, but Sans had come to realize that Frisk’s presents to him in particular were usually gags or japes during any other time of year. Gyftmas was the only time when they gave him something meaningful, something _special_. It had started innocently enough, with a telescope. Their first Gyftmas together had been only a few weeks after they had broken the barrier and set monster-kind free. At that time Frisk didn’t know much about their new friends and had very little money, and yet they had somehow managed to procure a top-tier telescope, amongst other exceedingly nice things. Their newly-appointed ambassador had insisted that the gifts had come from various human countries in an effort to spur good relationships between them and the newly-reestablished monster kingdom. Ever since then, Sans looked forward to Gyftmas. It was as though he could measure the health of their relationship through the gifts they gave him.

They had always been particularly patient with him. Quietly watching, learning, never judging. Sans had been a difficult nut to crack, but in the ten years they had known him, they had been able to lift the curtain of secrecy surrounding his fears and doubts. And so Frisk’s gifts to Sans changed as they grew to know him better. A telescope to show him the stars he’d longed to see, a hand-pressed bottle of ketchup to remind him of what had changed, a handmade quiche to show him that they could help, a bouquet of Shepard’s Purse, Scarlet Geranium, Gorse, Traveler’s Joy, and Volkamenia as a promise of support and understanding, a digital alarm clock and calendar to assure him of when he was, a digital picture frame filled with his most precious memories, unlimited access to the humanity’s various technological archives (something which had previously only been granted to Alphys), handmade chocolates in the shapes of naughts and crosses, and finally, a red thread. For each present, there had been a positive response. Bolstered by this, Frisk had decided to do the unthinkable for a human. They watched cautiously from the corners of their eyes as they made the yearly round, giving out their presents and happily chatting with their friends and family. He was bound to open his gift at some point, but what would his reaction be?

The pensive skeleton hazarded one final glance in Frisk’s direction for courage. He shifted his body slightly, making sure that he wasn’t leaning against the hard, living room wall as he opened up his present. Lifting the small blue lid revealed a slew of cotton batting surrounding a delicately wrapped gift. Carefully tucking his right hand under the box for support, he uncovered his gift with his left. His easy-going grin tensed up as he revealed a perfect, ruby red heart. If his jaw could drop, it would have. Shocked, he dropped the lid, a dim thunk resounding despite it falling on the thick, woven rug. Frisk’s SOUL was nothing short of perfect. Unblemished. Pure and crystal clear. And now, it was his? It was his. Gradually, everyone stopped talking amongst each other and turned to face him as he stared in dumbfounded shock at the gift in his box. He could feel his own SOUL pounding like a hammer against his ribcage. All he wanted to do in that moment was lift his partner’s essence out of the box and cradle it against him, but all he could think of was the myriad of eyes staring straight at him. Sans needed to hide, get out of everyone’s sight. There was no way in Hotland that he was about to show anyone such a precious gift. Without even thinking, he had disappeared from the room, the box gripped tightly in his hands.

The surprised human ran quickly out of the room, out of the house, and down the street. There was nowhere else that Sans would go but to the safety of his room. All the while, Frisk replayed what should have been a flawless idea in their mind, scrutinizing every little detail. What had they done wrong? They had been dating for a few years, and Frisk had made sure to learn as much about how monster proposals worked before even considering that plan. Had it been too flashy? It had been, hadn’t it? The frustrated adult groaned as they ran into the skeleton household and up the stairs. Without so much as stopping to take a breath, Frisk forced the door open and tumbled into the room, their still oversized sweater blending in perfectly with the pile of dirty laundry the human had fallen into.

* you sure about this kid? Sans sighed, his voice filled with a strange mix of uncertainty and elation.

Frisk dragged themself up onto their boyfriend’s makeshift bed and paused, doing their best to curb the burning in their lungs. Being called a kid still rubbed them the wrong way, but the pet name had stuck, and ten years of knowing one another couldn’t change that. So, they did their best to keep a straight face, flatly refusing to frown at the pet name that would likely never change.

* Yes.

Sans kept his gaze glued to the precious gift in his hands as he sighed. It felt good to hear positive words, especially from Frisk, even if the reply was a bit terse. He chuckled a tad, his shoulder blades grinding into his ribcage as he forced his back to straighten. Just a bit more confidence, that was all he needed. 

* i’m broken goods, y’know. you sure you’re sure about this?

* I refuse to answer the same question twice, Frisk huffed knowingly. * and that first statement is false, bone boy. So, what’s your actual answer?

Easy, relaxed laughter flowed from between Sans’ teeth. That was his Frisk. Ever the patient person. If anyone on this good earth could put up with him, it was them. 

* heh. can’t wait to see how you top this next year, soulmate.

He turned to face them, his tacky Gyftmas sweater creasing, partially obscuring the childish drawing of a Gyftrot head and merging it with the knitted brown words underneath, « Oh deer, Gyftmas is here. »

**Author's Note:**

> In case you wanted to know exactly what Frisk's flower message to Sans meant, here you go!
> 
> "I offer you my all; comfort, affection, and safety. May you be happy!"


End file.
